Once Upon a Westeros
by Kelly123
Summary: Disney's Princesses meet Martin's Maidens. A collection of drabbles.
1. Belle

_So this is happening._

_Disney princess storylines taking place in Westeros._

_It's not a crack-fic, actually...almost sort of canon-compliant? I don't know what has gotten into me.  
_

_D: Not mine._

* * *

**Beauty and the Beast**

**"Come into the light..."**

-Belle

She had never been to this part of the Keep before, and hadn't ever thought she might have reason to. Hardly anyone had...or at least, anyone who ever returned, she thought with a shudder. She was deep down in the belly of the castle, where the air was cold and stale, with a sense of ill-boding held carried within its smothering weight. It was so very dark down here, a kind of blackness that seemed almost thick and tangible against her fingertips as she reached out to grope blindly in front of her face. Her own meager candle had sputtered out some time ago, leaving her completely at the mercy of whatever the depths might hold, and she had traced her way slowly with one hand on the cold stone wall, counting every step as she had spiraled down what had seemed an endless staircase into the inky abyss.

It was forbidden to come here, where long-standing tales spoke of enchantments and curses and horrors unfit for the light of day, and she had never dared to question their validity.

Until now.

She hadn't wanted to come, but she didn't see how there was any other choice. She carried her fear along with her underneath her cloak, and it grew heavier around her heart with every step which would bring her closer to what she both feared and hoped might lie in wait for her. There was a feeble glow some distance away, a flickering light casting eerie shadows around a corner where she knew her destination must be. He would be there, but her legs shook at the thought of who might be waiting with him.

Footsteps as faint as a heartbeat on the cobblestone, she pressed her back against the corridor and peered into what little light the single candled mounted on a sconce provided. The sigh of relief she could not stop herself from uttering was far too loud, but she heard it not. Her mind was fixed on nothing but the sight of the man before her, shackled to the wall and filthy, but still her heart soared at the sight of him. Flying forward towards the unguarded cell without a second thought, she thrust her hands through the barred door which separated him from her.

"Father!"

Slowly, the man who sat huddled on the dirty ground lifted his head from where it lolled on his chest as though in a daze, blinking into the meager light which illuminated his daughter's face several times. "Sansa?"

"Oh yes, Father it's me! I've come to help you-"

"Sansa, what are you doing here? You must go! It isn't safe, he'll catch you, go, now!"

"No! I won't leave you!"

"Well, well, well..."

The voice was like ice down her spine, and terror dawned on the face which she had always known to be lined with strength and wisdom. Her heart gave a violent lurch and she held on tightly to the metal bars for fear her knees would buckle from beneath her. Drawing upon the fierce love she felt for the captive, she turned to face the intruder with every ounce of poise she possessed, but it vanished in a moment when she once more laid eyes on him.

If possible, his snarl twisted into something more vicious when the gasp she could not contain fell from her lips and shattered on the cold ground around them. She thought she was past fearing the sight of him, but here, with the good side of his face hidden by darkness and the candlelight undulating over his scars with terrible intensity, he looked even more a beast than the Hound she knew him to be. His enormous bulk cast a hulking shadow, and she was caught in it, frozen when he spoke once more.

"I told you to stay out of here, Little Bird."

"Please...please, ser, my father, you must let him go!"

"Must I?" His eyes burned dangerously bright in the dim lighting, and she instantly regretted her choice of words. She could smell the wine on him as he moved closer to where she stood pressed against the bars, shielding her father as best she could with her body, and she knew there would be no one to come to her aid should she scream. "I don't think you are in any position to be telling me what to do, girl."

"Let the girl be, Clegane, she has nothing to do with this!

"Father stop! I beg of you ser, let my father go...I'll do anything!"

"Anything?"

"Sansa, stop this at once! Go back to your chambers, go-"

"The girl has spoken." He said in a voice that was more of a sneer, leaning over her and grasping her tightly around the wrist to wrench her forcibly away from the door she so naively thought she might have guarded. The key clanked against the heavy lock, and her father struggled in his shackles as the Hound held him down and had them loosed in moments. The elder man was weakened by his time confined though, and no match for the man who yanked him from the cell with a hand around his neck. She thought to run to him, to wrap her arms around him as she had when she was still a child, but she found she did not have a chance before she was shoved roughly to the floor in his place and the door slammed shut behind her.

"What-"

"LET HER GO!" Her father screamed in a voice unlike any she had ever heard him use, mad with fear, and anger, and yet the Hound only laughed his bitter laugh in return.

"You heard her, anything. She's mine now, Stark, and you...the Stranger can take you."

She rushed to the door, clinging to the bars as she heard the lock click back in place. "Don't hurt him, please, please don't! You have me now, I'll stay with you, for true I will, just don't hurt him!"

"Aye, that you will. Goodnight, Little Bird."

The flame was extinguished then, and her world was thrown into darkness once more.

* * *

_Honestly, I don't really see Sansa being made of the same stuff as Belle was in this situation. I would say she is more of an Ariel (selfish and flighty) but this scene just fit too well, and I couldn't pass it up.  
_

_What princesses would you like to see in Westeros?_


	2. Aurora

_Okay, this one is a bit more AU...much more my element!  
_

_If you've read "flesh & blood" you wont be surprised by my pairing here. If not, well, maybe you should!  
_

_These are all very short, roughly 1,00 apiece (just fyi).  
_

_D:Not mine._

* * *

**Sleeping Beauty**

**"I know you, I've walked with you once upon a dream."**

-Aurora

He did not recognize her, and she was glad for it.

It was no small wonder, though, as on the rare occasion that she caught sight of herself in a looking glass, she barely recognized the tall, tanned girl with sun-bleached curls falling wildly around her, dressed in tattered clothes with hands roughened by the sea. She was not as pretty as she had been, her scar made sure of that, but she found she liked this other version of herself all the better.

He seemed to as well.

For if he had remembered her, it would have been as another girl, with porcelain skin and carefully-kept tresses whose hands knew nothing but the soft lining of expensive gloves. He would have seen the little princess she had not been for so very long now. He did not know the one who stood before him on the shore, had never met this lonely orphan girl with the ruined face and different name who lived in seclusion from the rest of the Kingdoms. This girl was a stranger, and so it was better that way. Had she still been of royal birth she would not have been free to wander as she did, gathering what she could in the shallows with her skirts held high in one hand while the other shielded her eyes from the harsh sun as she tried to make out the shape of two figures moving towards her through the sand.

She might not have recognized him either, were it not for the wolf at his side. As it were, she knew him little more than if they had never met, which, in truth, it may have been that they never had. Princesses had little need for bastard boys, and so it were better that they crossed one anothers paths this way, with no insipid little girls who bore highborn sigils anywhere to be found. Their lives, if not entirely their pasts, were unknown to each other, and so it was without prejudice or expectations that they might walk alongside the sea in their own sort of shy courtship, this bastard and his girl. This way there was no threat of impropriety to stand in the way of his hand slipping through hers, or to hush the quiet whisper with which he asked if he might see her again. Nothing to stop the sweet feelings that began to build inside of her whenever she thought upon his gentle laughter mixed with the breaking of the waves, carrying her along its crest into pure bliss.

The common girl would have been allowed to love him, to share his home and give him sons without care for the name which they would bear, and with him she might have found the sort of happiness in simplicity forever elusive to princesses bound to castles. She might have, but as quickly as she had begun to anticipate such pleasures, they were snatched away from her in an instant.

"No! I will not marry him, I refuse!"

"Myrcella, whatever has come over you? Stop this child, lower your voice at once, a lady does not speak as such!"

"But I am not a lady, not anymore, I'm not her!"

The three septas who had come to raise her since her exile in Dorne eyed one another nervously, fingering the dirtied parchment with its broken royal seal which she had read and immediately thrown upon the floor in disgust. "Ella, sweetling...we know this must seem mad-"

"Seem mad? It is mad, all of this! I am naught but a Dornish bastard of no importance to the throne, how is it to be that am I to marry the crown prince?"

"Do not speak lies to us, child, we know you better than that. You know who you are and what you were born to do, the time for pretending otherwise is done."

"I am not pretending! King Robert was not my father, everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows that!"

"Yes, but Queen Cersei was your mother, and she was promised to the prince's father once-"

"And so the sins of the father..." she heaved a heavy sigh and sunk down into a simple wooden chair, the sort of which she was not likely to see for some time if the new Queen had her way. "And what of this so-called prince? I thought Rhaegar's son was murdered in the Rebellion?"

"This was another child, raised in secrecy until now. They say he is a good man, he will make you a fine husband."

"That is no matter, for he will hate me. My uncle, my true father, killed his. And I shall hate him in return, for taking me from my own love."

"Sweetling..."

Her green eyes blazed fiercely as she lifted her chin to stare at her caretakers with all the boldness she possessed. "It is true, I swear it to the old gods and the new. I shall never love him, he shall never be my true prince. All my love belongs to the bastard, for though he holds no land or titles or gold, he holds my very heart in his hand, and so he shall until I draw my last breath."

"You are young still, and love is a tender and fickle thing. The years can change many things about a person, certainly no one knows that better than yourself."

"It cannot change this. It won't, I won't let it."

"The hour is late, it will not do to fret on such things any longer. It is time you slept, you shall leave on the morrow for King's Landing."

"Tomorrow?"

But she had not even the chance to tell him farewell, or even kiss his lips just once! With a heavy heart allowed herself to be put to bed, and as she awaited the dawn, in the darkness she wondered if she would ever look upon the face she loved so well ever again.

* * *

_Sleeping Beauty has never been one of my favorites, but it just *fits* doesn't it? The prince and the princess meeting and not knowing the other was to be their betrothed? SQUEE! Oh how on earth did I ever fall for Jon/Myrcella so very, very hard?  
_


	3. Ariel

_Who doesn't love a good fairytale?  
_

_I most certainly do, because these are beyond fun to write, so I hope you enjoy reading them!  
_

_Please note that I am basing these stories (and the quotes) off of the Disney version, not the original folklore. K?  
_

_D: Not mine._

* * *

**The Little Mermaid**

**"Why don't you go tell my father. You're good at that."**

-Ariel

Her father would disapprove, of that much she could be certain. She did not claim to know him well, this quiet, guarded man of whom she lived her life in a reverent sort of fear, but even she knew it to be true.

He would not bluster and storm and forbid her from going as her Uncle Robert might, and he wouldn't take her into his arms and ask her sweetly not to go so as Uncle Renly had been like to do, but he would reject the idea all the same. No, he would look at her with eyes so much colder than her own, displeasure etching a stern frown into his already stern face and put a stop to her plans had he the knowledge of what lie in what for her, of where she intended and go and who she was to meet. Not so much for those facts, as he had been there and seen her as frequently as he drew breath, but she knew he would view it differently with concerns to his daughter. It might be of no consequence that he asked his red priestess for assistance, but if he found out his daughter intended to, if he were to know just what she meant to ask for...

Her father would disapprove.

And yet, somehow that sealed her decision all the more.

She wasn't a troublesome girl, she hadn't ever been, not in the least. She knew her place and she kept it well, and there had never been anything inside of her to suggest she do otherwise. She didn't complain out loud, or slouch in her chair, or speak out of turn, or squint her eyes, or swallow too loudly. She didn't do anything that might be deemed unfitting for a lady, especially a lady who might be the only possible heir to Dragonstone. She didn't do much of anything, actually.

Nothing that mattered, at least. A girl of her position was to keep quiet and look pretty, and since she could not do the latter, she could excel at the other. She practiced her lessons, and her stitches, and she read her books and minded her manners, and when she closed her eyes, she did the closest thing to rebellion that she dared.

She dreamed. She left her chambers and her mutilated body behind and fell away into a world she had never seen the likes of, a world she might actually have a chance of being a part of. The release was exhilarating, and in it she found the sweetest escape into the darkness of night she thought she ever could hope to make.

Until now.

"Have you gone mad? What do you think you are doing?"

"Go back to bed, Edric. This doesn't concern you."

"If it concerns you, it most certainly does concern me. You aren't going to see that woman, are you? Shireen, Shir-"

"Take your hands off of me at once! Do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they catch you and I like this? Let me go!"

"I don't care if they catch me, as long as they catch you too. You can't go see her, I won't let you."

"You are no one to tell me what I can and cannot do." She hissed out, using the shock and hurt that dawned on his face as an opportunity to wrench out of his hold on her shoulders. Collecting himself, he continued to walk after her, keeping up with her brisk pace but keeping his hands to himself.

"I might not be, but neither is the red priestess. She's dangerous, you know that!"

"Do not be a fool Edric, I'll be fine. If my father trusts her, than I do as well. Or do you doubt the judgment of your Lord and future King now?"

"That isn't fair Shireen. At least tell me why you are going to see her, and let me come with you. You shouldn't be out like this in the middle of the night, much less to see her!"

"I've already told you, it is none of your concern."

For it wasn't. After all, what did a silly boy know of such things, even a boy as dear a friend to her as Edric? He didn't and he couldn't, for what was being a bastard to being cursed? For certain that was she was. She had heard the whispers, endured the stares and cruel words for all of her life, and she could not bear them for a moment longer. The priestess was a woman herself, she would be able to help her...certainly, she must. At the very least she should be able to see it in her fires. She had seen so many things for father, there had to be something contained within the flames for her as well.

"You don't need her, Shireen. Whatever you think she can fix for you, you don't need it, listen to me!"

"Why should I? How do you have any idea what I need?

"This is about that Stark boy, isn't it? The one your father's army found living with the Wildlings." She stopped dead in her tracks at that, his words a harsh truth she could not force herself to swallow. Her heart, already beating a rapid tattoo against her chest from fear and anger, seemed to double its frantic pace at the mention of him. "Is it for Rickon? Is he the reason why you are doing all of this?"

"Please shut up and just let me leave Edric."

"You shouldn't have to...I mean, if he-"

"You don't understand! None of you, it's not...maybe she can help me. Maybe...I don't know. And I'll never know, not unless I try, at least this once. Just let me try, Edric, please?"

"You can't ask this of me, what if-"

"It'll be okay. I'll be okay, I promise."

"You can't promise something like that. No one can."

"Goodbye."

And with the briefest touch of her lips to his cheek she was gone, vanished into the darkness to beg a favor for which she had no way of knowing what the price was to be.

* * *

_I fear I might be a bit too vague in my retelling (judging from a previous review), so I'll try and lay it out for y'all at the end just in case. This takes place when Ariel goes to bargain for Prince Eric in response to her father's punishment. I know Shireen is an odd choice for Ariel, but I absolutely fell in love with the switcharoo of Melissandre as Ursula! And somehow Edric snuck in there as Flounder...  
_


	4. Snow White

_I might be the only person reading these...but I'm okay with that.  
_

_I know this is probably OOC, but again...I'm okay with that.  
_

_D: Not mine._

* * *

**Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs  
**

**"Someday my prince will come."**

-Snow White

It wouldn't be so bad, she did not think, no, not truly.

There were so many bad things in the world now, that this...this surely was not the worst of them.

Better with him than the rest of them, at least. He would be gentle, or at least as much as he knew how, quick about it too. It would be best that way. She trusted him, if no one else. Truth be told, he had never been a good man, and he had said he wasn't her man, but he was the closest thing she had to comfort of any sort, and so it was fitting that he would be the one to bring it to her now. She was ready.

She wasn't scared, not anymore. It seemed like another lifetime ago that she had been so distraught over her first encounter with this strange creature, when she had been dreadfully wrought with heart wrenching sobs over the sight of the lifeless and bloody knight in that tournament for a man so long dead. Those tears she had cried seemed incredibly foolish now, now when she was welcoming the fate she had been so overwhelmed with grief to witness.

It was almost like falling asleep, she heard, and she hoped it was true. It had been so very long since she had been able to sleep, after all. And sleeping was nice, for if death were anything like dreaming she would welcome it with open arms.

There were songs written of it, after all, and once such a very long time ago she had been terribly fond of songs. In songs death came to one like a lover, secret and surreptitious in the night to steal a maiden's last breath or a knight's final battle cry, and there was always such beautiful celebration of mourning to follow. It had all seemed such a lovely and tragic romance when she was younger that she had not been able to stop the tears which always followed the minstrel's ending notes. She might have her own tale of untimely love and loss now, though. It was rather romantic, in a way, just the two of them alone together out here amid the snow. It would be so soft to lie upon and close ones eyes, the bright white of it all contrasting so prettily against the deep red of her life's blood as it seeped into the frozen ground beneath her. It would be cold, but she was a daughter of the north, if not the one they all wanted her to be, and her blood was made for the chill of winter just the same. She did not mind the cold of it so much, not when her...rather, his, chambers were so very warm. Warmth could mean sweaty hands and probing fingers, or a searing red-hot poker, or those dreadful hot baths after he...no, it couldn't be as bad as all that, for certain.

By comparison, she would welcome death. A sharp pinch, or mayhaps a sudden pressure, and then it would be over. She was so very ready for it all to be over.

"I've got to do it, you understand that, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I understand."

"I don't...it's all I can do. I can't save you, I'm can't..."

"But Theon-"

"Not Theon!" he hissed through his broken teeth, eyes wide in horror as he looked over his shoulders for fear of what the what secrets the trees might be listening to. His mangled hand shook with the paltry dagger he clutched so desperately, and she feared he would drop it into the snow before he had the chance to plunge it deep enough into her heart.

"Yes, you are! You are Theon and I am Jeyne. If we are to die, let it be as ourselves, not who he had made us to be."

"He'll know. You know he will, he knows everything."

"Then let him! Take him my heart to him as proof, let it be his in my death for it never belonged to him in life. He shall know it all, that Reek died along with the false Arya Stark he created, and that the Prince of the Iron Isles killed them both."

"You can't say those things, for I am no prince, milady."

"You are mine. You might not have been willing to be my man, but at least know that you were, you are, my prince. My prince who saved me the only way he could. And I loved him for it."

"Jeyne..."

"Oh yes, that's right, that's my name."

"You've got to know your name."

"Oh I do, I do...but do you know yours?" she whispered, placing one bruised hand softly against the side of his filthy cheek. She felt a dampness beneath her palm, and leaned forward to brush the tear away with a touch of her lips to his patched, white whiskers. He jerked at the contact and she placed her other hand around his wrist which held the weapon to steady it. Lifting it with her own, she placed the dagger's sharp tip against the fabric covering her chest, pressing until she felt the cloth give gave beneath it. With an anxious breath, she let her lips graze his for the briefest of moments before pulling back to meet his gaze once more. "Your name is Theon, and I love you. You must know that. Please."

His face appeared contorted as though with pain when he spoke. "I am Theon..."

"Yes."

"And I...I..."

"Yes?" she said breathlessly, closing her eyes and leaning into the steel.

"I can't!"

She felt the loss of the metal's cold against as he staggered away from her. "What? Theon, it's okay, I want you too-"

"No Jeyne, no!" he surged forward, capturing her lips desperately before pulling back with a wild hope she had never seen before in his terrified eyes, "Run Jeyne. It cannot end this way. We must run!"

And so, atop the snow and between the trees, into the dark, they did.

* * *

_I know, how could I write about Snow White and not include Tyrion, but oh, Theon and Jeyne, where have you come from to sneak up and steal my heart?! And Theon as the huntsman was much more suitable than him as a prince.  
_


	5. Cinderella

_Just to reiterate, these are based off Disney princesses...not other versions of fairytales.  
_

_Because I am not cool enough to know about those, evidently?  
_

_It was really hard to come up with a concept for this one, and I know it is a bit of a stretch. But it was a itch I had to scratch.  
_

_D: Not mine. _

* * *

**Cinderella**

**"Why, that means I can go too!"**

-Cinderella

She couldn't help it. Once her stays were fastened and her sash tied, the beads placed upon her neck and shoes on her feet, her lips gave a twitch. Once her chambers had been emptied of sisters and servants, she stepped closed to the looking glass and did what she hadn't dared to before the rest. She smiled.

Oh, she was supposed to be somber and forlorn. Her heart was supposed to have been broken by a boy, no, man, whom she had never even met. She shouldn't be smiling at the reflection of herself dressed as a real lady in such finery, her belly should not be aflutter with the anticipation of attending a celebration...not when it was for his marriage to another.

That thought made her expression falter a bit. The cause for the feast was one which left a bitter taste of rejection on her tongue, though her tears at the news had long since dried. This could have been another sort of night entirely, a fact which her father had not allowed her to forget every time it was mentioned. It could have been for her, all this fuss and festivities, she could have been the girl with the cloak around her shoulders, instead of just a new gown. Should have been, if her father had gotten his way.

Regardless, though, she had never had a choice in the matter either way.

She knew him not, the Young Wolf of the North to whom she had been betrothed, and she knew even less of his new bride. To know that these two strangers had completed altered the course her life had ought to have taken was an odd feeling, an emotion she did not quite know how to place. She mourned for the loss of an opportunity to escape the dreary existence she had been confined to more than the absence of a man who should have been her husband. She did not yet wish him happiness when her own was still so elusive, but at the thought of the feast, even considering the reason behind it, she hoped such might still be hers to find.

There were whispers around the castle, rumors of another arrangement of marriage to one of his Tully kinsman. A blush burned upon her cheeks when she caught herself wondering if the man might be in attendance tonight. It might be nice, to look upon her husband before she was wed to him, to share a dance before they did so as man as wife. She smoothed the rich fabric of her skirts and wondered if he would find her pretty. She hoped so.

It wasn't her wedding, but it was still cause for celebration and she found herself awed that she had been allowed to attend. Her father had been so very angry at the news of Lord Stark's betrayal, as they had taken to calling it, that she feared he would change his alliances entirely. Her father was not a good man, she knew as such all too well, and his pride was a monstrously ugly thing. One would have thought she was his favorite child the way her carried on about her honor, that he loved and cared for her as one truly dear to his heart instead of having to be reminded of her name. The North must have promised a hefty consolation for the loss ties to the throne through marriage, or else she was certain her father would have had nothing to do with them.

He most certainly would not have allowed her to attend the wedding celebration. Her heart had beat wildly when she had asked permission, soaring at the "if" he had held over her before finally relenting and permitting her to even have a new gown for the occasion. She knew it was to flaunt her in front of the King, but she was grateful all the same regardless. Her brothers had claimed the new Queen was by looks no comparison to her own beauty, and she would have felt flattered if she had not known jealousy lay behind the words rather than the true affection. It was no matter though. She had little experience regarding life beyond the Twins, and she was desperate for a taste of it.

"Are you ready, sister?"

"What?! Oh-yes, I mean-well. Forgive me, I did not know you were there, brother."

"Hrrumph. Is that why you were grinning like a fool into your mirror, then?"

"I was not...you aren't going to tell father, are you?"

"Stupid girl, no one cares for what stupid faces you make alone in your chambers. No doubt thinking upon that traitorous so-called King, you were. Just make sure you don't make a fool of yourself in front of him tonight."

"I would never wish to do anything to bring shame upon our family."

"You mean bring more shame, that is. No matter, it will all be different after tonight."

"What do you mean, brother?"

"Nothing. Just be gone by midnight, do you understand."

"But why?"

"By the gods girl, do you always ask so many stupid questions? Just do as you've been told, make nice with the Lord Tully and do not linger when we tell you to leave or you'll be sorry. Not as sorry as the King, of course."

With that he gave a gruff sort of laugh, though his eyes soon hardened at the look of uncertainly which had settled in her face. Quickly, she cast her gaze downward so as not to stir his displeasure with her moreso. Certainly, whatever he meant was not a matter meant for a woman's ears, as was so often seemed the case with her family's affairs. Still, a cold feeling of unease settled into the pit of her stomach, and chilled the keenness she had felt so strongly for the evening.

"Say, aren't those my sister's beads at your throat? And my mother's sash?"

"Well, yes, but they said-"

"Stupid girl. Just don't be so stupid so as to forget about midnight, do you understand?"

"Yes, brother. I understand."

But she didn't, not then, not really. When she did, at the first scream as into the stillness of the night as her carriage drove away, she closed her eyes and wished for ignorance once more.

* * *

_I'm having a lot of Roslin feels right now, and there is so little out there about her to satisfy them! I know so little about her it was hard to fit her into a storyline, but I decided that turning the Red Wedding into Prince Charming's Ball might be interesting. And she does have plenty of nasty kinsmen to play the roles of the wicked stepfamily, after all!  
_


End file.
